


you & me & this feeling

by pumpkinless



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Marriage Proposal, Pet Names, short and sweet and sappy just because sheith are forever in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19980232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinless/pseuds/pumpkinless
Summary: Keith probably should have bought a ring before opening his mouth.





	you & me & this feeling

“This is stupid,” Keith says.

Shiro looks up from his desk, blinking in alarm.

Keith hasn't even made it all the way inside Shiro's office. He steps forward off the threshold so the door can slide shut behind him.

"Stupid?"

Keith blows out a breath and looks around the room. Nothing in it is any different from the office Keith is used to entering, not even Shiro at his desk, uniform jacket buttoned all the way up like he’s on shift. The gold braid on his shoulders glimmers gently in the fluorescent light as he stands and walks around his desk, slowly approaching Keith.

“Yeah,” Keith says, his response late to the game. “Yeah, this is—it’s not . . . .”

_ Not hot,  _ he thinks, but he doesn’t know how to say that.

Shiro has his understanding face on, holding Keith’s gaze silently as he waits to make sure he won’t interrupt Keith. 

“That’s alright, baby,” Shiro says sweetly when Keith isn’t forthcoming. Keith’s heart thumps at the easy acceptance. “You’re sure you want to stop? If you’re embarrassed—”

“It’s not that.” Keith crosses his arms and tries to figure out what it  _ is _ exactly. The scene seemed like a fun idea when he proposed it to Shiro and he certainly didn’t imagine the spark of heated interest in Shiro’s eye when they talked it over, but that was then and this is now. 

Keith looks down at himself and picks at the sleeve of his jacket. Cadet orange is not his color.

“Nope,” Keith says, half to himself. His fingers fly to the clasp of his jacket and undo the fastenings as quickly as he possibly can, shrugging it off his shoulders and holding it in his arms. “I’ll just—”

Keith spins around and walks right back out the door before Shiro can stop him. That was weird. That was so  _ weird;  _ Keith’s never walked out on a chance to have sex with Shiro, especially not kinky role play sex. Not even the time Shiro asked him to dress up in a skimpy police officer outfit—Keith is pretty sure it was a repurposed Halloween costume—and pretend to “arrest” Shiro by handcuffing him to a chair and riding him while calling him a bad boy. That was only embarrassing for like, three seconds, and then Shiro’s eyes got all dark and Keith got really excited about tying him up.

Well. He supposes everyone has their limits, but Keith is surprised that his limit turned out to be student-professor roleplay. 

Of course, Shiro doesn’t just let him go. Quickly moving footsteps follow Keith up the hallway and Keith has to fight the desire to break into a run. It’s near lights out at the Garrison, though, and he doesn’t want to cause a stir heading into the officer’s hallway.

Shiro clearly has no such reservations.

A strong forearm wraps itself around Keith’s chest. Before Keith can turn, Shiro’s floating prosthetic dips down to sweep Keith’s knees out from under him and heft him up against Shiro’s chest. Keith groans at the treatment, glaring at Shiro. Shiro grins down at him, broad and so bright that his teeth might as well be sparkling, and Keith is struck speechless by it.

“You’re not getting away from me that easy,” Shiro says. He strides down the hallway with purpose, his boots echoing loudly on the hard walls and doors.

“This is unnecessary,” Keith grumbles, but he’s fought this fight before. Shiro does not believe in setting Keith down.

Shiro just hums and stops at their door. He waits patiently for Keith to lift up his palm and press it to the door scanner to let them in. The lights are off and the wolf isn’t home, probably off galavanting around the Garrison to get anyone who will look at him for more than five seconds to give him food. Shiro kicks his dress shoes off at the door, and then they’re off.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Keith announces as Shiro takes them to their bedroom. 

Shiro doesn’t answer. He drops Keith on the bed, not quite tossing him there, but it’s not terribly gentle either. Keith bounces a few times, his feet still hanging off the edge, but doesn’t get time to open his mouth because Shiro plants one knee on the bed between Keith’s spread legs and leans down to kiss him.

What’s Keith gonna do,  _ not _ kiss him?

That’s a ridiculous thought.

Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck and pulls his whole body in as Shiro kisses him with undeniable hunger. This isn’t what they had planned for the night, but while Keith’s feeling too awkward to beg Professor Shirogane to give him a better exam grade, he’s definitely okay with Shiro the boyfriend kissing him hard enough to bruise on their bed.

Shiro kisses him like he has a direct line into Keith’s brain for everything that makes him feel good. He probably does, the bastard, because he knows exactly how to get Keith to moan and squirm underneath him. Keith sinks into the warmth of his mouth, into his determination and softness all at once, and he lets Shiro take him to a different place, one where the only thing that matters is sighing into Shiro’s mouth and kissing him with a singular determination. Keith rakes his fingers through the long part of Shiro’s hair, scratches his nails over the buzzed hair at his nape. Shiro shudders against him and Keith feels a flash of pride.

The kiss breaks too suddenly and Keith whines in displeasure. He surges up to continue it—if Shiro needs air, he can learn how to breathe through his nose, Keith needs him  _ now _ —but Shiro is already out of reach.

Keith is prepared to complain to management about this.

Then he realizes that Shiro is taking off his uniform jacket and thinks maybe they can make this work after all.

Shiro throws the jacket on the floor and then hikes his white undershirt off over his head, pulling from the back of the neck in a move that leaves Keith’s mouth dry. It’s far from a striptease, but Shiro doesn’t need to do anything special to look sexy. Keith’s hands land on the thick hair trailing down Shiro’s chest, muscles solid under his touch, and Keith wants to bite him. God, it’s been so long since he made Shiro look like his, playing with his nipples until Shiro turns into a squirming, overstimulated mess, leaving sucking kisses that mark up Shiro’s skin next to every single one of his scars, bruising his hips with how tight Keith holds him while he gets his mouth around Shiro.

Keith tries to sit up but Shiro plants a hand in the middle of his chest and shoves him right back down.

He falls back to the bed with a gasp. Before he can complain, Shiro slides both hands up underneath Keith’s shirt, raising it up until it comes off over Keith’s head, his arms above him so Shiro can get it off without struggling.

Shiro looks like an emperor above him, straddling Keith’s hips with haughty ease. Keith licks his lips.

“You gonna come back down here?” Keith asks. He lets his voice slip low and drops his gaze for a moment to the tented front of Shiro’s uniform pants. Keith’s love for a man in uniform hasn’t waned one bit.

Maybe that wasn’t the smoothest move, though, because Shiro laughs at him.

Touch gentle, Shiro smooths his hands over Keith’s skin, up from his belly to his shoulders, never breaking eye contact. He leans forward as his hands reach Keith’s biceps and slide all the way down his arms to tangle their fingers together in Shiro’s left hand. His right, prosthetic fingers too big to fit comfortably in the spaces between Keith’s fingers, takes his hand and pulls it up so Shiro can lay the softest kiss on his knuckles, like something straight out of a movie about royalty.

“What are you doing,” Keith says flatly. It’s not a question; he’s just trying to hide the way it makes his heart feel squirmy and embarrassingly in love.

Shiro kisses his hand again, right in the center of his palm. “I love you,” he says. “I love you for trusting me enough to back out of earlier as soon as you knew you weren’t comfortable. And I love you for how you’re pouting at me right now. And for the fact that you didn’t brush your hair before coming to my office.”

“Oh my god.” Keith’s entire face is on fire. 

“Keith,” Shiro says. He’s outright laughing now, pressing Keith’s hand to his cheek. “Keith, baby, why don’t you ever use the comb I bought special for you from the commissary?”

Groaning, Keith pushes Shiro’s face away with the flat of his hand. “You’re the worst,” he complains, glaring at the ceiling. “I thought we were gonna—you know, and now you’re—”

“Sex, Keith, can you say sex?”

_ “No.” _

“Ooh, did you want to make love instead? Baby—baby, aw, come back here.”

Shiro lets go of both of Keith’s hands so he can put his hands on Keith’s face and turn his head up for a kiss, a silly little smack of lips. He grins down at Keith, heedless of the way the creases at the corners of his eyes make Keith’s heart turn over in his chest. Like this, Shiro looks so happy and perfectly his age.

Keith wants him so much.

“Jeez,” says Keith, half to himself. His hands dip to the front of Shiro’s pants and make quick work of the button and zipper, pushing his hand inside only to find—

“You’re so gross,” Keith groans. 

Shiro has the audacity to pout at Keith calling him out for going commando underneath the scratchy fabric of his uniform pants. “It was gonna be hot,” he says. “You know, you on your knees, begging me to—”

“We aren’t talking about that,” Keith says firmly. 

“You got it, babe.” Shiro winks and wiggles his hips in a way that rolls his ass against Keith’s dick.

“Get off me,” Keith says. “I’m going to take my pants off, and then you’re not allowed to talk anymore.”

Shiro laughs the whole time he’s scrambling off the bed and taking his pants down. He plucks open the laces on Keith’s Garrison-issued boots, the ones Shiro refuses to wear anymore because he says they’re not comfortable, and pulls them off Keith’s feet. Keith’s pants and underwear follow together in quick succession and then he finally scoots up the bed, aiming for comfort and opening his arms in a demand for Shiro to come to him.

Shiro obliges, pressing their bodies together from head to toe and kissing him so deeply that it takes nothing for Keith to lose himself in it. Kissing Shiro is inevitable like the moon pulling on the tides; he knows every little trick to make Keith fall apart and there, wrapped around each other too tightly to be pried apart, Keith loses himself. 

He lets Shiro move him around, rolling them to the side so he can tug Keith on top of him and reverse their position. This does not stop Keith from kissing him, not even for a second. He gets his hips in line with Shiro’s, pushes his cock against Shiro’s and sighs into his mouth. Shiro winds his arms around Keith and gets his own hand in Keith’s hair—a mirror of how they were just laying.

They find a rhythm rocking together, distracting enough that Keith can’t keep kissing him. He leans his forehead against Shiro’s, panting softly.

“‘M mad at you,” Keith tells him, corner of his lips twitching to prove that he’s joking.

Shiro chuckles, breathless, and his mouth slides across Keith’s in a mess of a kiss. “What for, baby?”

“Making—making fun of me.”

“Thought you liked it when I make fun of you,” Shiro says. His voice grows in strength with every word out of his mouth, and no matter how hard Keith grinds their hips together, their skin slipping together with sweat, he can’t break Shiro’s determination. Talking to him was a mistake. “You always like it when I—”

“No talking,” Keith says, blushing and stumbling over his words, but it’s too late.

“So desperate, baby. You got all worked up thinking about me earlier, didn’t you?” Shiro’s big hand gropes at Keith’s ass, spread wide so he can pull Keith’s hips in harder against him. 

A shiver wrecks Keith down the whole length of his spine. 

“Well, you know what I’ve been thinking about?” Shiro asks. Dirty talk is dangerous; Shiro is too good at it and Keith is weak for that voice growling low in his ear. “It’s been too long since we tried to tire you out, baby.” He reaches between them and strokes Keith’s cock with a tight, fast grip, clearly already aiming to make Keith come. It’s going to work, and  _ fast. _ “Want you to come all over me, sweetheart, fuck me ’til I can’t take it anymore. Fuck my mouth, too. My thighs. You can do that for me, right, baby?”

“Shiro,” Keith whines, his head dropping forward to Shiro’s shoulder. His fingers grip Shiro’s body so tightly that his nails dig into Shiro’s skin without permission.

“Make me yours, Keith,” Shiro whispers. He bites at the shell of Keith’s ear, just how Keith likes. “Right now, baby boy, come all over my cock and show me who I belong to.”

Keith squeezes his eyes shut. He stops thinking about roleplay completely and worries instead about trying to hold on and not completely lose it in two minutes like he’s a teenager again. Sobbing his pleasure into Shiro’s skin, he bites at his shoulder, both hands fisted into the sheets on either side of Shiro’s head. 

Shiro’s metal fingers cup the back of Keith’s head so tenderly as Shiro presses a kiss to the side of Keith’s head. “Do it, baby,” he whispers. “Show me how much you want me.”

Keith comes hard with an agonized moan that he can’t quite seem to muffle in the crook of Shiro’s neck. His hips stutter and Shiro strokes him through it, whispering soothing praise in a voice too soft for Keith to make out the words. The sentiment carries through, though, and Keith’s thoughts liquefy into one long stream of  _ I love you I love you I love you— _

He says the first thing that comes to his mind, but it comes out slurred and dazed from pleasure.

“Say that again?” Shiro asks, gently rubbing a palm up and down Keith’s back. His tone reminds Keith of stepping outside and turning his face up to bask in the sun’s warmth.

“Marry me,” Keith says again. It’s a sigh and a plea and a demand all at once.

A still silence falls.

It takes a second for Keith’s body and brain to catch up with the words that just came out of his mouth, and he snaps upright. Shiro’s eyes are wide with surprise and his lower belly is covered in Keith’s mess, both hands hovering in the air where they had been on Keith’s body.

Keith could take it back. He could chuckle weakly and apologize and remind Shiro how orgasms make him say the most ridiculous things, that he loves Shiro so much but now totally isn’t the time for this. He could laugh about it until Shiro joins in and they kiss again and move forward onto Keith getting his mouth on Shiro’s cock and making Shiro forget all about the dumb things Keith’s brain thinks about when he comes.

The problem is Keith doesn’t think it’s a ridiculous or dumb thing to say at all. He doesn’t want to take it back.

“Wait,” he says, holding up a finger right in front of Shiro’s face.

Keith scrambles out of the bed, nearly faceplanting in the sheets in his haste, but he makes it to the ground and sinks to a knee. Shiro half follows him, sitting up on the bed with his mouth hanging open so unattractively that Keith wants to kiss him until they suffocate together. 

“I know we’re naked,” Keith says, “and I didn’t plan this at all and I know you’re not supposed to propose during sex and especially not without a ring but—”

_ “Keith.” _

“But,” Keith maintains, taking one of Shiro’s hands between his own, “I don’t care if we have to make up a cover story about this for the rest of our lives. I want to marry you, Shiro. ”

Shiro’s eyes shine with what Keith strongly suspects might be tears, but he won’t be the one to point it out.

“You asshole,” Shiro finally says, voice cracking as he covers his face with his free hand. “Keith, you couldn’t have just waited  _ three more days?” _

Keith tries to ask what that’s supposed to mean, but Shiro’s prosthetic arm shoots over to the dresser and opens the middle drawer that houses Shiro’s workout clothes, fishing something out of the back of it with a flourish. It’s a small black box, unmistakable in what it contains, and it’s Keith’s turn to gape with his mouth stupidly open.

“Seriously, Keith,” Shiro says, voice wobbling. “Our two year anniversary is in three days. I have this whole thing planned and--and--”

“You should do it anyway,” Keith blurts out, interrupting him. He squeezes Shiro’s hand tight. “As long as you  _ promise  _ you’re going to marry me and that you’ll never tell our friends I proposed during sex.” Shiro laughs wetly, conspicuously wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “I’m serious, Shiro, they’ll make fun of me forever.”

Shiro delicately sets the box on the end table next to the bed so he can gently cup Keith’s jaw. “You would deserve it,” he whispers.

“C’mon, Shiro, spousal privilege should apply to engagement stories too,” Keith whines. He shifts closer to kneel evenly on both legs, chest pressed to the bed. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Shiro says, laughing. He never looks more handsome than he does when he laughs.

“Whatever,” Keith says. Shiro’s laughter is infectious. “You still haven’t promised me, you ass.”

“Promised you what?”

Keith’s gaze flicks over to the ring box and back to Shiro’s face. “Promise me you’ll marry me even though I asked you like this.”

“Keith,” Shiro breathes, “yes.”

The word hovers in the air between them, easily the best thing Keith has ever heard, and he basks in the love that graces every inch of Shiro’s face. He kisses Shiro’s knuckles, an acceptance and a dedication.

Shiro pulls Keith back up onto the bed into his lap so they can wrap their arms around each other again. 

“It still doesn’t feel real how much I love you,” Shiro admits in between kisses that make Keith’s heart race. “You mean everything to me, Keith, more than I can ever tell you.”

His heart beats fast for a whole different reason and Keith sings with the idea that this is the first and only man he’ll ever want to love. “I think I have some idea,” he murmurs, “if it’s anything like how I feel about you.”

**Author's Note:**

> title is from "marry me" from betty who, which i highly recommend as a sheith song <3
> 
> thanks for reading!! 
> 
> twitter @[disloyalpunk](https://twitter.com/disloyalpunk)


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